Prowl's Live Journal
by Raven9
Summary: Just a busy day for Prowl when Optimus Prime is out.


1 Prowl's Live Journal May 19, 2002 11:03 am MST  
  
What a day. Prime and some of the others went to what the humans call a 'Monster Truck Rally'. He asked me if I wanted to come along.  
  
"You might actually enjoy yourself, Prowl," he added by way of humour. Hah. I said no again, saying 'someone has to make sure that things keep running while he's gone.' Thank the Matrix he's taking Huffer with him. I can't stand to hear whining today.  
  
Optimus nodded—were his optics just a shade brighter? —And said 'All right, Prowl. I know you'll keep everything in order while we're gone. Autobots, roll out!' He transforms and leaves, taking Huffer, Mirage (slumming, he calls it), Hound, and Skids with him. As Skids departs, he shouts 'Sunday. Sunday! SUNDAY!' and the others laugh. Well, yes, it's Sunday, but what does that have to do with the price of enertea on Talos IV?  
  
Things were quiet enough for a while. I worked on some battle reports I'd gotten behind on, and attempted—fruitlessly—to decipher Jazz's Earthen slang in another. Just what was a 'one legged man' doing in an 'ass- kicking contest' to begin with? Apparently, Jazz was busier than said man, trying to keep Rumble and Frenzy from wrecking a local humans' communications relay.  
  
All right, enough. My cerebro-circuitry is starting to ache. Time to go get some energon.  
  
  
  
2 Prowl's Live Journal May 19, 2002 11:27 am MST  
  
The last person to use the refueling room left it in quite a state. An empty energon cube has been left carelessly on a chair, instead of being properly disposed of. How hard can it be to put it in the recycling chamber? I considered putting up a sign saying 'Your creator does not work here—clean up after refueling!' I know it's pointless, though. I often think I'm the only one here with a logic algorithm.  
  
The refueling room is quiet as I take my energon.  
  
2.1 Meanwhile…  
  
"Come on, Grimlock! Put on movie!"  
  
The Dinobot commander turned to glare at Slag. "Me Grimlock put on movie when me, Grimlock, damned good and ready!" He turned his back to his comrades to look at the huge viewscreen. A moment passed.  
  
"Okay, me ready!" He pushed a button, starting the movie. Before long, the words 'Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone' flashed across the screen. A collective cheer arose from the powerful yet childlike warriors.  
  
The Dinobots didn't care to stay in their quarters, and often fights would erupt, just for the joy of it. After their last fight—which had resulted in Swoop and Snarl getting patched up by Ratchet—Wheeljack had approached Optimus Prime.  
  
"They aren't as mindless as everyone likes to think they are, Optimus," the inventor argued. "We have to give them something to do, even if it's as simple as watching earthen television and movies." Optimus agreed, and so a large viewscreen—and an enormous supply of things to watch—had been made available to the Dinobots. And Harry Potter had been high on their list of things to see!  
  
2.1.1 Later  
  
**BOOM!**  
  
I jump out of my seat in the duty room, drawing my weapon. An explosion like that could mean one of two things: a surprise Decepticon attack, or Wheeljack has been inventing again. To be honest, I'm hoping it's the former as I race out into the hall.  
  
"Slag," I mutter as I see billowing, greenish-gray clouds of smoke pouring from Wheeljack's lab. What's he gone and done this time? I had to admire Wheeljack's persistent nature, even if he was rather illogically attached to the idea of inventing without proper materials. I rush down the hall, shouting his name.  
  
Clang! I run into another Autobot. "Wheeljack! Aren't you in your lab? I thought maybe you blew yourself up finally."  
  
He shook his head. "I was talking to Ratchet when I heard this explosion and—Holy Primus! What happened to my lab? Who in the smelting pits did this?" The protrusions on the side of his head flash red, a sure sign of anger.  
  
We peer into the smoke filled lab. A scrape of metal catches our attention as we move cautiously in. "Be careful," Wheeljack said. "For all we know, it could be Decepticons like Rumble or Frenzy. Wouldn't be the first time 'Cons managed to sneak in."  
  
"Right."  
  
Up ahead, we saw large shapes moving through the haze. "Halt, and identify yourselves!" A crowd of other Autobots has come up behind us, ready to take on the intruders.  
  
"Huh, stupid Prowl not know Dinobots?"  
  
"Grimlock! What—just what are you doing in Wheeljack's lab, other than destroying it?" I demanded.  
  
"We watched Harry Potter, now we make potions!" Sludge said, obviously pleased with himself.  
  
"No, now you clean up Wheeljack's lab, and—"  
  
"Um, Prowl, actually I think I can take care of this myself, no problem at all!" Wheeljack said. "In fact, I insist on it," he continued as he herded me out the door. It slammed solidly shut behind us.  
  
"We go play other games now," Grimlock said, looking almost subdued.  
  
"Slag want make 'nother potion!"  
  
Grimlock grabbed his teammate by the neck. "Me Grimlock say we play 'nother game!" He released Slag, and the Dinobots shuffled down the hall. They weren't terribly bright, but they were terribly fond of Wheeljack, and they knew better than to play around in his lab.  
  
Once they were gone, Wheeljack cursed the Dinobots six different ways as he activated the exhaust fans. They knew better than to get into his lab!  
  
Had the inventor been human, he would have been retching. The stench in the lab was unbelievable: fortunately as far as his sensors could detect, that was the worst thing about the Dinobots playing Snape's Potions Lab. There was a good deal of broken glass, and various tools and instruments were scattered from hell to breakfast, as the humans would say.  
  
Wheeljack activated cleaning drones to take care of the broken glass while he went about straightening tools, datapads and other items used in his research.  
  
"Holy—what happened in here?" Ratchet surveyed the mess wide-eyed.  
  
Wheeljack frowned behind his faceplate. "It starts with D and rhymes with 'rhino clots'," he answered wryly. "I've about got in cleaned up, though."  
  
"Eewww!" The Autobot medic waved a hand before his face. "What in Primus' name is that stench?"  
  
"Basically it's the result of whatever chemicals the Dinobots were mixing." He righted a miraculously unbroken beaker of a brilliant blue chemical. "Fortunately, the explosion and the stench were the worst of it. Some of this stuff could have turned deadly."  
  
"Actually," Ratchet pondered, making a sour face, "it smells more like Soundwave's cassettes after they've been locked inside him for a week!"  
  
Wheeljack chuckled, appreciating his best friend's attempt to lighten the situation. "I was thinking more that it smells like Starscream's foot armor!"  
  
They laughed at this, Ratchet adding, "No, more like the time we were in New York. Remember how the sewers smell?" He shook his head and sniffed, attempting to clear it from his olfactory sensors. How do humans live with this?"  
  
"Not sure. And I'm not sure how we live with Brawn after he's been out fighting all day. I swear, he smells like he's dead sometimes!"  
  
Prowl's voice on Ratchet's radio cut through their laughter. "Ratchet, we need you in repairs. Gears needs medical attention."  
  
"Right, I'm on my way." Had Ratchet been able, he'd have rolled his eyes. Now he would have to listen to the grouchy Autobot gripe and complain the whole time he was being repaired. "Duty calls," he said to Wheeljack. I'll stop by later. Maybe we can do something more entertaining!" Wheeljack watched the medic leave, smiling a little.  
  
3 Prowl's Live Journal, May 19, 2002 3:22 pm MST  
  
The Dinobots' Harry Potter games didn't end with 'potion-making'. Seems that a short while later, they were going about waving sticks (actually tree branches, still festooned with leaves and in one case, a squirrel's nest) at each other and fellow Autobots, yelling out gibberish that I can only assume would be magical spells.  
  
Gears didn't find it too amusing when Swoop pointed a 'wand' at him, yelling "Me turn you into 'Blast-Ended Skrewt'!" Gears' ill-thought reply was 'Go Blast-Ended Screw yourselves." The Dinobots' reply was to do something that involved much blasting of Gears' end, but very little to do with Skrewts. Well, that gave Ratchet something to do besides play 'Name that Stench' with Wheeljack as they attempted repairs on his lab.  
  
4 Prowl's Live Journal, May 19, 2002 4:02 pm MST  
  
Optimus Prime and the others arrived back at the Ark fifteen minutes ago. Of course, Prime asks me how it went. I tell him, and it's obvious that he's trying not to laugh as I tell him about the Dinobots and Jazz and Blaster playing 'Name That Backwards Tune'. Which would not have been so bad, except that they insisted upon playing it at a volume fit to shatter Omega Supreme's armor. I later found out they were blasting something called Morrissey, who could have given whining lessons to Gears and Huffer, and a song called 'Disintegration', by Blaster's favourite band, The Cure. Well, it certainly fit, seeing as if they'd played either song much louder, disintegration would have been the end result.  
  
I also described the Name that Stench game Ratchet and Wheeljack had been playing, and was sure that I saw the hint of a smirk behind Prime's faceplate when I mentioned 'Starscream's foot armor.'  
  
  
  
"Starscream's foot armor," Prime mused, a hint of a chuckle touching his voice. "And Blast-Ended Skrewts."  
  
"Pardon?" He still wasn't sure what a 'Blast-Ended Skrewt' was, even after Jazz had explained it as a 'strange critter found in the Harry Potter stories'.  
  
"Nothing, Prowl. Well, it seems as if you had a rather eventful, if also rather typical, day at the Ark. Thank you for your report."  
  
Prowl nodded and stood up to leave. "Will there be anything else?"  
  
Optimus shook his head. "No, that will be all. Have a pleasant rest cycle."  
  
Prowl nodded, then turned to leave. "You as well, Prime. Oh, one more thing?"  
  
Prime looked up from the medical report. Gears would be just fine, if sorry and wiser. "Yes, Prowl?"  
  
"I, ummm…next time, you and some of the others go to a 'silly human entertainment' event, and you invite me along, would you please make it an order?"  
  
"If that's your wish, Prowl." Optimus watched his security officer leave. He waited until he was sure that Prowl was out of earshot, and then laughed, long and hard. What the humans would call a 'belly laugh'.  
  
"Blast-Ended Skrewts and Starscream's foot armor," he muttered, and this got him going all over again. Though he didn't realize it, Prowl had given Optimus a great gift that day. He'd made the Autobot commander laugh for the first time in a long while. 


End file.
